Without Her
by James Riley
Summary: Short story based upon what Hyde must be thinking after cheating on Jackie. Spoilers maybe? PG13 for selective profanity and light sexuality. I'm no good at summaries. Read the A/N


Disclaimer: Broke as a joke and twice as funny. Don't sue. I don't own Jackie, Hyde, or the sexy sexy Kelso. I don't own Ashton, Danny or Mila either. If I did, I'd be much too busy doing naughty things to write a story. All the people and places involved in T7S are property of FOX and Carsey-Werner. Lucky bastards.  
  
Author's Note: This is my first T7S fanfic, which means, I guess, that I'm a virgin. Be gentle. The story is written from Hyde's point of view, and takes place after he cheats on Jackie. It may contain spoilers, I wouldn't know, but still, be careful. Also, I'm pretty sure that I stray a little from Hyde's characterization. I don't care. This is how I envision him reacting to the situation. People change when they've been hurt.  
  
Rated PG13 for random profanity and light, light sexual references.  
  
Feedback: Read the whole story first. Review second. In return for your review, I will be your whore. People who read and don't review are all MY whores. You whores.  
  
Distribution: If you want to post this anywhere (as long as you give me credit as the writer), email me and we'll talk it through. Don't steal.  
  
Okay, so here we go.  
  
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  
  
Without Her  
  
I was fucked. Actually, hey, given the circumstances, I'd say "fucked" is a pretty good way to put it.  
  
I loved her, man. Still do. My love for her was (and still is) more intense than any emotion I had ever felt. Her love for me, and I realize now that it really was love, was a burning, white hot fire that was brilliant and sometimes too painful for me to bare.  
  
Which is why, I think, I so quickly screwed up. So to speak.  
  
The irony behind this story is that I didn't want to lose Jackie. Sure, she was spoiled, selfish and annoying, but as they say, you can't choose who you love. Or who loves you.  
  
And you especially can't choose who the person you love used to love. I know that doesn't make much sense. Neither does love.  
  
I couldn't stand seeing Jackie with that idiot Kelso. I mean Christ, they have a long, torrid past together. In their time, they shared their very own special kind of love. And I already have trust issues. I have my own sketchy past to blame for those. So, I guess I was just afraid to be hurt in the event that the love of my life and the moron rekindled their romance. Abandonment doesn't fit me well.  
  
So hey, why not drown my sorrows at the hotel bar? Because BAD SHIT WILL HAPPEN! It's too bad hindsight isn't 20/20.  
  
I remember knocking back a few. Everything after was a yellow haze of alcoholic stuper and a swaying, dizzy course of events that, in the long term, have had damning consequences.  
  
I remember lips and tongues, hands groping, mocha skin contrasting against my own of porcelain white. I remember slurred whispers of angry, jealous, heated sexuality; I remember a flirtatious giggle at a blue cocktail umbrella that had somehow gotten into my hair.  
  
I woke up next to a beautiful coffee colored goddess in a room with clothes strewn about, and a nurse's uniform hanging from a chair. I was so disgusted by myself and shaken with hangover that I ran to the bathroom to relive the previous night.  
  
When she found out, she cried. She cried and my heart broke. I had just lost the only person who had the inclination to love me. More than that, she'd no doubt turn to that dimwit Kelso for sympathy.  
  
I'm keeping to myself these days. I don't think Jackie comes around the basement anymore, but it's too hard for me. I only sit on my bed when I'm there, avoiding interaction with any of the gang. Mostly, though, I spend my time wandering around the old neighborhood, brooding over my lost love.  
  
Lost love. That's such a trite expression. I didn't lose Jackie. I cast her away. I am without her because I was afraid to be without her.  
  
Now there's irony.  
  
END  
  
=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=  
  
© James Riley 2003. Plaigerism is mean. Use without permission will result in blunt objects being shoved into very, VERY uncomfortable orifices. 


End file.
